


Travelers In The Wild

by Aglarien



Category: The Lord of the Rings - J. R. R. Tolkien
Genre: M/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2016-09-10
Updated: 2016-09-10
Packaged: 2018-08-14 06:33:39
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 2
Words: 7,074
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/8002102
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Aglarien/pseuds/Aglarien
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Glorfindel escorts Lindir to Imladris – or is it the other way around?</p>
            </blockquote>





	1. Chapter 1

**Author's Note:**

  * For [IgnobleBard](https://archiveofourown.org/users/IgnobleBard/gifts).



> Written for Ignoblebard, who requested a lighthearted romance and a road trip. I hope it pleases, Mike.
> 
> Beta: Phyncke  
> Disclaimer: All characters and locations belong to Tolkien. No profit is made from any part of this fan fiction story.

We are all travelers in the wilderness of this world, and the best we can find in our travels is an honest friend. Robert Louis Stevenson

Never go on trips with anyone you do not love. Ernest Hemingway

Part One  
Glorfindel

“I am sorry, Lindir.” Glorfindel fed the growing fire he had managed to start after their dousing in the river. He glanced up to take in the forlorn looking, soggy elf. Lindir stood at the edge of the swollen river, his drenched harp in his hands. 

“It is not your fault, my lord. The river deceived us. We both thought the crossing would be safe.”

“Come, set your harp here by the fire to dry. Perhaps it will take no permanent harm, and if it should, there are woodworkers in Imladris who will repair it for you. We will stay here for the remainder of the day to dry out and forage for food.” It was by sheer good fortune that none of their belongings had been washed away by the river, Glorfindel thought. It was too bad, however, that their store of waybread had not survived the dunking. He moved to where their horses waited and loosened the straps that held Asfaloth’s saddle. “Durion is a fine horse,” Glorfindel said, nodding to Lindir’s black stallion. “He kept his head and carried you out of the river.”

“He is indeed,” Lindir said, finally moving and setting his harp by the fire. He joined Glorfindel in removing the horses’ saddles and blankets and set them out to dry. “He has been a good friend and companion for many years.” Lindir punctuated his words by rubbing his horse’s head.

Lindir was proving to be a good traveling companion, Glorfindel mused. He hadn’t known what to expect when Elrond sent him to fetch the elf from the Grey Havens, and had been surprised to find a competent elf, seemingly as fearless as Glorfindel himself, and so much more than a meek musician and poet. They had left the Havens but two days ago, and when not sharing in unexpectedly comfortable silences, their conversations had centered on their journey and surroundings, sprinkled with Lindir’s questions about Imladris. Now Glorfindel wondered why Lindir had chosen to leave Círdan’s house, but did not wish to pry.

Once the blankets, contents of their saddlebags, and most of their clothing had been spread out to dry, Glorfindel moved down the riverbank, silently surveying the water’s flow for long moments before saying, “I will try to find a calmer spot where I might be able to fish for our lunch and dinner today. The river is too wild here to hope to spear one. Perhaps just beyond that bend.” He pointed to where the river took a sharp turn that would hopefully break its swift current. He’d been silently chiding himself for letting the river best him. His skills were better than that.

“I will see if I can find some roots and berries,” Lindir said, taking a still damp but empty bag and his bow and arrows, “or perhaps some small game.” He moved away from their makeshift camp into the forest that ran along the river’s edge.

Glorfindel watched him go, a dark-haired elf, nearly as tall as Glorfindel himself, and protected only by a damp shirt and wet leather breeches and boots, seemingly as at home in the forest as anywhere else on Middle-earth. Lindir was a mystery that began to peak his interest more and more. 

Two hours later, Glorfindel had a half a dozen large fish cleaned and cooking over the fire when Lindir returned to the clearing, bringing a brace of fat hares and a stuffed foraging bag.

“Oh, well done, Lindir!” Glorfindel exclaimed.

“And you, my lord,” Lindir replied, nodding to the cooking fish. “We will have fish and berries for lunch, and rabbit, roots and mushrooms for supper.” He set the rabbits aside for skinning and cleaning after lunch and began sorting the contents of his bag, piling a considerable amount of ripe blackberries onto a large leaf. “The berries are sweet. It’s a shame we don’t have a cooking pot to make a nice rabbit stew, though.”

Glorfindel nodded and made a sound of agreement, seeing the large tubular roots, fresh greens and mushrooms Lindir had collected. 

“There is something I need to tell you about, my lord,” Lindir said, his face troubled. “I followed a set of fresh tracks – tracks made by a single pair of rather large boots, if I judge correctly – until they merged with two or three more sets of tracks further into the forest. They were not the light steps of elves. It is possible that our little river adventure did not go unnoticed and that we are not alone here.”

“Yrch or men?”

“I could not tell. It could be either, but there were no more than three or perhaps four sets of tracks, so I would think that men would be more likely.”

“And yet no one has approached us,” Glorfindel said thoughtfully. “That would not seem to be a good sign.” It never once occurred to him to doubt Lindir’s report, such was the confidence with which the other elf spoke. “We will eat as quickly as we may and then go on a quiet search for the source of the tracks. The fish is ready and we do not know how long it will take, so food first.”

Lindir nodded. “I stopped following the tracks because my heart told me to be wary and not to search farther without you. I have skills in tracking but not really in being alone in dangerous situations.”

“That was the right thing to do. We will take our weapons and be prepared to defend ourselves,” Glorfindel said, carefully removing the cooked fish from the fire. Lindir’s decision to stop following the tracks and return for help spoke loudly of the elf’s good judgment and humility. Experience continued to prove that elves frequently got into trouble when they let pride overrule common sense.

When they had eaten, they made quick work of preparing the two rabbits for cooking and covering the leaf-wrapped flesh with the rocks Glorfindel had ringed around the fire. He doubted Asfaloth would let any wild animals into the camp, but it would keep the meat safer and help shroud the scent. The roots were placed in Lindir’s saddlebag and slung over Durion, and it was then that Glorfindel noticed Durion favoring one of his legs. “Oh no,” he groaned, bending down to check, his fingers probing and running the length of the horse’s leg. 

Lindir quickly joined him while Glorfindel assessed the animal’s injury. “I do not think it is a sprain, Lindir,” Glorfindel finally said. “There is no swelling, or very little of it. He must have strained his leg in the river. It does not seem to be a dangerous injury.” He sighed in relief. He would have hated for Lindir to lose his obviously beloved horse from a sprain or break. “We will let him rest another day before we move and you can ride with me on Asfaloth so that Durion does not have to bear any weight. Asfaloth can easily bear the two of us, along with a litter for our packs. All the more reason for us to find those men quickly and discover their intent. Asfaloth will guard Durion while we are gone and your horse will come to no harm while we are away.”

Lindir nodded and watched Durion worriedly for a few moments before speaking gently to the animal and stroking his side. They gathered their weapons, and with Lindir leading the way to the tracks he had found, they left their little camp and entered the forest. Three hours later, they were perched high up in a tree, the majestic oak’s leaves hiding them more effectively than the green and brown of their clothing ever could, quietly listening as three rough looking men returned to their camp. It had been easy to know the men would return, for they’d left a cooking pot on the cold fire pit and their dirty blankets on the ground. All Glorfindel and Lindir had to do was wait. 

“There’s only two o’ them,” one of the men said. “We can take ‘em easy.”

“Those are elves, stupid,” another of the men answered. “Won’t be easy like as that little group we kilt last week. We’d best leave ‘em be.”

“We can’t afford to leave ‘em be,” the third man spat. “How do you expect to eat if we leave ‘em be? We wait till they sleep tonight. Be easy to kill ‘em when they’re sleeping. Besides, they’re not all that smart, else they would have known the river was bad where they crossed.”

“What about those horses? We couldn’t even get close just now with the big white horse. Think they’ll let us in that camp with those elves sleeping tonight?”

“Horses sleep too, and if they don’t, we kill ‘em first. Nice horsemeat would be right tasty.”

Glorfindel looked at Lindir and whispered so softly that only the acute hearing of another elf could discern anything other than a breeze in the leaves, “We cannot let them live.” It grieved him to contemplate killing the men, yet it had to be done. They were a menace and had killed unwary travelers. Lindir’s face was grimly set as he silently set an arrow to his bow. The elves listened long enough to be certain there were only three before they dispatched the murderers to whatever judgment awaited such evil men. 

“I hate doing that,” Lindir murmured. “It pains my soul to have to kill another of Eru’s creatures that he did not intend to sustain us.”

“Yes,” Glorfindel agreed as they descended from the tree, “although in this case it was more than necessary and we undoubtedly saved many men and even elves that those three would have done harm to.” He wrinkled his nose as he investigated the men’s meagre belongings. “I can see no sign left of the last group of travelers they waylaid. They have nothing here but their cooking pot and probably meant to have a meal on whatever stores we had after they murdered us in our sleep.”

“Or dine on our horses,” Lindir said in disgust. He picked up the cooking pot, inspecting it. “This is a good pot. It’s clean, so I doubt these three used it. Perhaps it came from the other party they killed.”

“Then you have a pot for the rabbit,” Glorfindel replied. Seeing Lindir’s raised eyebrows, he went on, “I have no hesitation or uneasiness in taking something that belonged to another in this case. Those the men stole it from would probably wish us well with it for dispatching their killers, and it is not tainted by the use of murderers.” 

Lindir nodded and set the pot aside to carry it back to their camp. They buried the men’s bodies as well as they could in the circumstances, lacking a good shovel or a handy supply of rocks from the now distant river, and set off back to their camp. After a half an hour of walking in comfortable silence, Glorfindel finally spoke. “What made you decide to leave?” 

“My lord?”

“Perhaps it is time you call me Glorfindel, Lindir.” Glorfindel smiled. “I usually do not hold with formality with those I have fought with. Your skill in finding and identifying those tracks saved us this day. I am glad to have you with me.”

Lindir’s face colored. “You would have seen the tracks when you passed that way, my lord. Erm…Glorfindel.”

“Yes, but you found them and correctly identified them. Things could have gone quite differently if you had not.” They walked on a few moments longer. “So what made you decide to leave the Grey Havens?’

“I was – unfulfilled. Bored, I suppose you could say. Everyone comes to the Havens on their way to somewhere else. No one stays. It is a sailing and fishing community and I want more. The more I heard about Imladris and Lord Elrond the more interested I became, so Lord Círdan arranged it for me. It is a chance for me to discover new music, new books. To make new friends, learn new things. Everything you have told me about Imladris tells me I made the right decision. Is it true that the library is larger than any other?”

“Perhaps not larger than others, but most certainly as large and better kept than most,” Glorfindel replied with a smile. “You have much skill in hunting and tracking. How did a musician come about such skills?”

Lindir glanced at Glorfindel and smiled. “A musician who was not always a musician and who has lived long has a lot of opportunity to learn other skills. I am also a tolerable fisherman and sailor.”

“Are you indeed?” Glorfindel returned the smile. 

“Is there anyone who lives on the shores of Arda who is not?”

“No. I suppose you are right. I confess I prefer the solid ground beneath me and there is something special about Imladris that calls to me. I have been happier there with Elrond and his family than I can ever recall in both of my long lives.”

Lindir nodded and they continued walking in silence, and Glorfindel wondered what occupied Lindir’s thoughts. Lindir was a mystery he now dearly wanted to solve.

The two elves worked together to prepare their supper of hearty rabbit stew, and Glorfindel was thankful that he had carried a small pot, along with a few pieces of simple tableware. One never knew while traveling when the opportunity would arise for hunting and cooking, and his foresight meant they would be able to enjoy the meal without eating it with their fingers. His wares, along with the new pot, would see to their cooking needs adequately enough during the journey. While the stew simmered, they checked Durion’s leg again and debated the merits of binding it, finally deciding to leave it unbound until they resumed their journey. 

They washed their bowls and spoons in the river after they finished eating, and left the remains of the stew warming at the edge of the fire. It would make a fine breakfast in the morning.

“Do you have family still in the Havens?” Glorfindel asked, spreading his blanket on the ground and rolling up his pack to use for a pillow. 

“No, they sailed long ago, after the Battle of the Last Alliance. My father, brother and I fought with the king, and when only my father and I returned home, my parents chose to sail. I, however, found I was not ready to sail and I chose to stay.” Lindir spread his own blanket on the opposite side of the fire. 

“You fought in the battle?” Glorfindel asked, astonished. “I did not realize…Elrond simply told me that you were a musician.”

“I am,” Lindir replied. “I was not a very good soldier, unlike my brother. I am a far better tracker and hunter. I was usually given guard duty and then assigned to the rear.”

‘And now you are in search of something new.” It was a statement, not a question.

“I always lived on the coast, except for times of war, but now I am in search of new places and new people. My whole life I found the comings and goings of people exciting. Elves would pass through the Havens with tales of faraway places and people and then slip away again. Now I find myself longing to build new relationships and set down deep roots. With my family no longer on Arda, there is nothing to hold me in the Havens any longer.” Lindir put boughs of pine he had gathered earlier under one end of his blanket to make a fragrant pillow. “Do you think we need to stand guard tonight?” he asked in a swift change of subject.

Glorfindel considered the question. He doubted there was anyone in their close proximity to threaten them tonight, but being careless was foolhardy. “We covered quite a bit of ground today and saw nothing other than the men whose camp we found, but I think we should still be cautious. I will take first watch.”

Lindir nodded. “May I ask you a question, Glorfindel? You do not have to answer if you do not want to.”

Glorfindel nodded and waited for the question.

“What was it like to die? And be reborn? Do you remember your life from before?”

“You are asking because of your brother, are you not?” Glorfindel already knew the answer, but waited for Lindir’s nod. “I do not remember dying. I remember the fall, the breathlessness, and then nothing until the loneliness of the Halls of Mandos. In the Halls, it is not the same as…well, being alive. There is no pain, no distinct memories. There is only a yearning for something more. When the Valar restored my body, life rushed back into my mind. I found it nearly overwhelming, but at the same time it was glorious because I knew I was alive again.”

“Do you think the Valar recreate the bodies of all of the elves who have died?” Lindir’s question was a quiet one.

“I think if your brother was good and pure of heart that the chances are very good that he walks on the shores of Valinor.”

“Did you see any of those you knew from Gondolin in Valinor? Your friends?”

“Yes, many,” Glorfindel replied. 

“And yet you chose to come to Arda.”

“Not a choice. I was sent here to aid Elrond, and yet I have never regretted coming for a moment. You will see your brother again one day, Lindir.” When Lindir nodded, Glorfindel asked, “Have you never taken a wife? You have chosen to be by yourself all the long years of your life?”

“A wife? No. I confess I do not find the charms of females appealing, but no, I have never taken a mate. Perhaps deep down in my heart that is another reason I wanted to leave the Grey Havens. Somewhere on Arda there must be someone for me.” Lindir smiled. “And you? Have you never taken a wife? Hasn’t it been lonely for you since you returned?”

“No, like you I am still searching for my mate, and yes, there are times I have been lonely, but not often. If I had a mate it would have been hard to leave him in Valinor, but perhaps that is why I was chosen. Elrond has taken me into his family, and his friendship, along with that of many others in Imladris, has filled my heart. Still, it would be nice to find a mate one day, someone who does not want me solely for my past or is too in awe of me because of the stories he has heard – many of which are quite overblown and frequently untrue.”

“I think I heard some of those,” Lindir said with a grin. 

Glorfindel laughed, half in amusement and half because Lindir’s admission that he preferred males made him unaccountably happy. 

Lindir picked up his harp. “I do not think there is permanent damage. The wood has dried and has not warped, thankfully. I was able to get it out of the river before it became saturated. A fresh coat of oil and I think it will be fine.”

“One more piece of the good fortune that the Valar appear to be blessing us with today, after our unceremonious drenching,” Glorfindel said.

“Do you think they are trying to make amends?” Lindir asked, humor in his voice.

“Hush. Don’t taunt them. Sleep well, Lindir.” Glorfindel stood his watch thinking about the clever elf Elrond had sent him to fetch and how fortunate he was to have such a one for a travel companion.

In the morning, after they checked Durion’s leg and broke their fast with the remaining stew, the elves set out together to find food for the day. Lindir proved adept at fishing with a whittled wooden spear, and between the two of them they had fish, wild fowl, and plenty of roots and greens. Glorfindel’s confidence in Lindir’s skills continued to grow as the day progressed. 

“It is a shame we have no means of preserving our food. It will slow our journey if we have to stop to hunt every day, at least until we get to the Shire and Bree. We should be able to purchase some food there,” Glorfindel remarked as he plucked feathers while Lindir gutted fish.

“We can hunt in the late afternoon and what we cook each night can last us through the following morning, or even lunch, if we are lucky,” Lindir replied.

“And if we are not lucky, we will come to no harm if we are hungry for a day or two. It is a good plan,” Glorfindel said. “Water, at least should not be a problem. We have good skins to carry it and the streams are bountiful after the spring rains.” 

“Will the Hobbits of the Shire sell us food?” Lindir asked. “I had heard that they do not often meet with elves.”

“There are farmers on the outskirts of the Shire who have grown used to seeing me pass on my journeys, but Hobbits are friendly folk. I have often purchased fruit and vegetables for a few coins, and the farm wives make lovely bread.” Glorfindel smiled in reminiscence. “And cakes. It’s possible to pass for men if we desire.” He put his cape hood up to demonstrate for Lindir.

“I doubt anyone looking closely at you would mistake you for anything other than elf. But you are the well-travelled one, my lord, so I will take my directions from you. I did not travel far from the Havens except during the war, though moving with an army hardly counts as training in the wilderness.” 

“You did not go far from the Havens in tracking game?” That admission surprised Glorfindel. Lindir seemed so comfortable out in the wild.

“No, there was no need. I had only to leave the city and surrounding farms and I was in the forest. Whenever I hunted, I always found game close. Often I didn’t hunt, just tracked and watched the deer and elk. I always found the quiet and beauty of the forest and the animals refreshing to my spirit. Sometimes I would take my harp and go off on my own, just me and my music, for days at a time.”

“I would enjoy listening to your music should you care to share your talent,” Glorfindel said, hoping the elf would take up the invitation. Lindir was proving to be full of surprises. 

While the fish roasted over the fire and a new stew bubbled in their purloined pot, the elves constructed a litter from tree branches and vines that would be fastened to Asfaloth’s saddle to carry their meagre belongings. Durion’s leg still appeared to be a little tender but it was thankfully improving. Another few days of easy travel and the horse was expected to fully recover, much to Lindir’s relief. 

That night again found them arranging their blankets on either side of the fire, talking companionably. They had plenty of the stew left for breakfast and had wrapped some roasted fish and roots that should still be good for lunch the following day, for the night was chill. It had been a good day and both elves were anxious to get back on the road. 

“Shall I take first watch or will you?” Glorfindel asked. “I have no preference.” It did not matter to him and it seemed the kinder thing to give Lindir his choice. 

“I will take the first, if I may,” Lindir said. “I am not feeling the need for rest yet. I think my mind is too full of this new adventure I have set out on.”

Glorfindel smiled and nodded, then arranged himself as comfortably as the hard ground and his blanket would allow. “Wake me in four hours, or earlier if you tire.” 

Nearly the four hours had passed when Lindir quietly shook Glorfindel’s shoulder, a finger to his lips motioning the elf to be quiet. “Listen,” Lindir whispered. There came the sounds of rustling in the forest floor and voices, too distant to be clearly understood but close enough to identify. The horses moved restlessly, sensing the threat, and he noticed that Lindir had already smothered the fire. 

“Trolls,” Glorfindel whispered, the expression on his face plainly manifesting his disgust. He motioned to the trees overhead and reached for his weapons that lay beside his blanket. For an hour or more the elves listened to the trolls stomp through the forest, prepared to defend their animals and each other. Every threatening sound caused their eyes to meet in renewed commitment. Though the trolls came close, by some unexpected boon they did not find the elves’ camp, and when they finally moved far away, Glorfindel quietly said, “As soon as light breaks, we leave.” 

“Yes,” Lindir whispered back. “That was too close. I will not relax until we are far away from whatever cave they inhabit during the day.”

“Agreed.”

Dawn had barely broken when the elves broke camp, arranging their belongings on the litter and attaching it to Asfaloth’s saddle. They ate their breakfast quickly, and when the sun’s rays dappled the forest, they set out, Lindir riding behind Glorfindel and holding Durion’s reins.

Continued in part 2


	2. Chapter 2

Part Two  
Lindir

Lindir’s arm wrapped around Glorfindel’s waist and he wished wholeheartedly that Durion’s leg was well enough to carry his weight, or would be very soon. He hadn’t been as attracted to anyone as he was to Glorfindel in – well, ever. Holding onto Glorfindel was proving to be a temptation, especially after hearing that Glorfindel shared his proclivity for males. As astonished as he’d been to find that the fabled elf was the one sent to escort him to Imladris, he was even more astonished to find what a pleasant, unassuming, and unpretentious traveling companion Glorfindel was. Lindir was sure that it was, in part, that modesty that made Glorfindel such an attractive elf. Lindir had never met an elf who was so noble and strong, and yet was equally as gentle and agreeable. Glorfindel was a stalwart companion indeed, which was good since their fifteen or twenty day journey was likely to turn into thirty the way they were going.

They’d been riding for several hours and it was now close to midday, and they had travelled more than far enough where the trolls were no longer a threat. Lindir shifted his weight on Asfaloth’s back behind the saddle in an attempt to make himself more comfortable. 

“Not the most comfortable way to ride,” Glorfindel said, the smile in his voice evident even though Lindir could not see his face. “Especially since we have no pillion for you to sit on. As soon as we find some water so the horses can drink, we will stop for lunch, and after we have eaten, I will walk for a while and you can take the saddle.”

“Better perhaps if I walk,” Lindir replied. “I had forgotten how uncomfortable it is to ride behind a saddle. Now that we are well away from the trolls, it will do me good to stretch my legs and walk.” They were travelling at a slow pace because of Durion’s leg, no faster than an elf could walk, so he had no fear of holding them up. 

“As you wish,” Glorfindel said. “Hopefully we will come across a stream soon.” He stopped at the crest of a hill and surveyed the little valley below, not too far in the distance. “That way, I think.” He pointed toward where the trees grew thickest and nudged Asfaloth in the right direction.

An hour later they stopped in a clearing and Lindir slid off Asfaloth’s back, his stiff legs nearly refusing to hold him. He worked the kinks out of his limbs and led Durion to the water’s edge to drink, talking to the horse gently and patting his head. Movement in the water caught his attention and he called joyfully to his companion. “There are fish here, Glorfindel! The river fairly teams with them. We can catch our dinner and breakfast now and we won’t have to stop so early tonight.”

Excited about their good fortune, the elves were able to quickly spear a goodly number of fish. While the horses grazed, they cleaned the fish and wrapped them in leaves to cook when they stopped for the night. After they ate the food they had carried from the night before, the elves set out once again, walking side by side, as Glorfindel had elected to walk as well. 

Lindir gathered fern heads, watercress, salsify, celeriac, and other roots and greens as they walked. Many of the roots would keep for the length of their journey, so he gathered what he could find since they had the litter. If they were unfortunate enough not to have fish or game to eat, he could make a stew from what he foraged and they would not go hungry. He was relying on Glorfindel to protect them, but the least he could do was make sure they had food. That he could do and do well, having spent his entire life close to the forests of Mithlond. 

“You are very resourceful, Lindir,” Glorfindel said, stopping to dig out a purple salsify root with his knife and handing it to Lindir. “I am very pleased to have you as a travel companion.” His smile was warm.

Lindir’s breath caught and he quickly turned his head away to hide the reaction, certain that his face was flushed. “As I am you, Glorfindel. I know I am safe from evil men and trolls and whatever else we come across while I am in your company.”

“Yet it is you who found the tracks of the evil men, heard the trolls, and have found most of our food.”

Lindir shrugged, but inwardly he was thrilled that Glorfindel had noticed his skills. “I am a good scavenger,” he finally said, softening the words with a smile.

“That you are, indeed.” A brisk wind rustled through the trees and Glorfindel stopped walking and looked up to the sky.

Lindir failed to stifle a groan. “We should have cooked that fish when we stopped for lunch.”

“What, you don’t care for raw fish? It can be quite tasty, especially with raw, crispy vegetables.”

A drop of water fell on Lindir’s upturned face. “Quick!” he said. “It’s starting!”

The elves hurriedly found a stand of trees that appeared to offer the best hope of protection for the horses. By the time the rain began in earnest, they had fashioned a makeshift shelter of branches, vines, and leaves to shield them from the downpour. 

“This isn’t too bad,” Glorfindel said. 

“Not bad at all,” Lindir agreed, pulling his blanket out of his pack. Their little shelter was wide enough for the two of them to lay down in if the rain kept them there during the night, and deep enough for their travel bags. “I just feel bad for the horses. Durion seems to like the rain, but what about Asfaloth?”

“Asfaloth loves being out in all kinds of weather, the silly animal,” Glorfindel said, affection for his horse evident in the way he said it. “He’d be perfectly happy if I left him out in it all year ‘round.” It was at that moment that lightning lit the sky, followed by booming thunder, and the skies truly opened.

Dinner that night was a shared fish, eaten raw, washed down by rain water and followed by a dessert course of thinly sliced celeriac root. It certainly was not the best meal Lindir had ever had, but it was also not the worst. The thunder and lightning had moved on, along with strong winds, but the heavy rain continued. “If it’s not raining in the morning and we can start a fire, perhaps we can cook the rest of the fish before we leave so it does not go bad,” Lindir said. He was anxious to get to Imladris, but if he was honest with himself, he was thoroughly enjoying the trip with Glorfindel, river drenching, rain, raw fish and lightning included. If they were delayed because of the time it took them to cook food every day, it wouldn’t bother him in the least. He would enjoy every moment he had in Glorfindel’s company. He pulled his blanket closer around him to keep out the damp. 

“When the rain stops, we can start a fire with the branches above us on the dry ground below us,” Glorfindel said, “if the Valar continue to try and make amends.”

“You built our shelter well, my lord,” Lindir said, smiling at the other elf. “I learned much from helping you.” The thick weaving of leaves over a frame of branches was keeping them dry and had withstood the worst of the winds during the height of the storm. He set his harp on his lap and began to softly play an ancient hymn. Glorfindel’s melodious voice joined Lindir’s and the elves spent a pleasant night, snug against the elements in their little shelter.

The Valar did indeed continue to smile on the elves, for the morning dawned fair and warmer and the horses had come to no harm. The fish they had caught the day before was still good and when it was cooked the elves had a good, hot breakfast before setting out once again. 

Each day continued much as the one before, foraging and hunting for food as they walked alongside the horses, and each day was blessedly free of encounters with trolls or wild men. Each day they grew more companionable and seemed to enjoy each other’s company more, and Lindir found himself more and more attracted to Glorfindel. Near Michel Delving, the elves stopped at a farm where Glorfindel was known, and after being treated to a full, hot meal at the farmer’s table and a bed for themselves and their horses for the night in a cozy barn, a few coins changed hands for some loaves of bread, a pie or two, a roasted fowl and a supply of ripe apples. They passed by Hobbiton at dawn, but not before the village baker was hard at work. More coins purchased fresh bread and cakes, and they continued along the Great East Road, past Buckland, before finally arriving in Bree, where they broke their journey for a night at the inn, for it was not unknown for Elves, Men and Hobbits to frequent the town. 

It was near the end of the Weather Hills and close to the Lone-lands that disaster nearly struck. The ground, weakened by the spring rains, had been drenched beyond its limits by recent storms. One moment Lindir was walking along, conversing with Glorfindel and the next he was being carried away in an avalanche of mud and rocks. He groped frantically, scrabbling for anything to give him a handhold and stop his fall. The first limb he grabbed a hold of fell away in his hand, but the second held, and he found himself hanging by one hand, face against the cliff side while the earth poured down on him. In the background of his heart pounding and his blood churning through his ears, he could hear Glorfindel shouting his name.

The fall of earth stopped as abruptly as it began and he called out to Glorfindel, “I am here!” Moments later, a rope dropped beside him and he grasped it tightly first with one hand and then the other, gasping for breath as he was pulled to firm ground. He lay on his stomach on the earth, trying to breathe normally, but within seconds of being able to let lose the rope, Glorfindel was kneeling at his side and strong hands were moving down his legs and arms looking for injury.

“Are you hurt?” Glorfindel asked anxiously.

“I do not think anything is broken,” Lindir managed to croak as he spit out mud from his mouth. “Can you get me some water please?” He was not about to try moving yet until the shock from what he’d just gone through subsided. He was afraid if he tried to get up he’d embarrass himself and pass out in front of Glorfindel. Thankfully Glorfindel was very perceptive and knew not to try and move him or keep asking him questions for a bit. He slowly rolled over and let Glorfindel help him sit up enough to drink. When he had washed the mud from his mouth and had enough to drink, he just continued to sit, leaning against Glorfindel before slowly moving his limbs in search of any injuries.

“I thought I had lost you,” Glorfindel whispered, and Lindir felt a kiss pressed to the top of his head. “I am going to require a lot of making amends from the Valar for this one.” 

“At least I wasn’t riding Durion and I did not die,” Lindir said. “I think I am satisfied with that.” Without warning, his head was lifted and Glorfindel was kissing him gently and carefully. Before he could think of what to do, the kiss ended and Glorfindel was caressing Lindir’s head. 

“I have grown rather fond of you, you see,” Glorfindel said.

“Oh, good,” Lindir murmured, forgetting about any hurts he might have taken because his heart was singing. “Would you mind very much kissing me again then? I know I’m all muddy but…”

His words were broken off by a kiss that was not as careful and gentle as the first, and Glorfindel didn’t seem to mind at all that he was getting quite muddy right along with Lindir.

 

Part Three  
Glorfindel

They made camp for the rest of the day by a rain-swollen stream. Lindir did not seem to be seriously hurt, although he was sure to be sore and it would do him good to rest for the remainder of the day. He was a strong elf and wouldn’t take to coddling, but he also had the good sense not to overtax himself. He had bathed in the stream and Glorfindel could see the bruises where he had been struck with the falling rocks. Thank the Valar nothing was broken. Lindir dozed, wrapped in a blanket, drained from his misadventure, and Glorfindel brushed the dried mud from his own clothes then rinsed Lindir’s muddy shirt and breeches in the stream and set them out to dry in the sun. It was not yet mid-day, and he began to think about what they would do for food. Lindir needed good nourishment to recover. They still had bread and cheese from Bree but had already eaten all the meat pies they’d purchased, so Glorfindel set off down the stream, hunting for fish or fowl – anything that would do for a meal. 

He had grown more than fond of Lindir in the long days they had spent together, and Glorfindel began to hope that Lindir might share those feelings. He had told Lindir that he wasn’t lonely and Elrond’s house supplied all the company he needed, but that wasn’t quite the truth. Deep in his heart he was indeed lonely, and longed for a mate, someone to share his deepest thoughts and desires with. 

When Glorfindel returned two hours later with both a fat duck and several fish, Lindir was up and had redressed himself. “How are you feeling?” Glorfindel asked.

“Better.” A brilliant smile lit Lindir’s face and Glorfindel found himself enchanted. “Just a little stiff. Give me the fish and I will clean them,” Lindir said, proving how much better he felt and reaching for the fish.

They worked together preparing a meal, chatting about how fortunate Lindir had been and how lucky it was that neither of the horses was hurt. Durion’s leg had healed days ago, and it was just a stroke of luck that Lindir had not been riding. When the fish roasted over the fire and the duck simmered in the pot along with roots and greens, they sat side-by-side and Glorfindel took Lindir’s hands into his own and said, “When I told you I had grown rather fond of you and you asked me to kiss you again, you said, ‘Oh, good.’ Does that mean you’ve grown rather fond of me as well?” 

Lindir’s face once again radiated with a smile. “Yes. I have grown very fond of you, too.”

“Oh, good,” Glorfindel said. “I rather think I’ve fallen in love with you, you know.”

Lindir still smiled. “That feeling is returned. Is there anyone in Imladris I have to do away with to call you mine?”

“No, no one.” Glorfindel’s smile was as broad as Lindir’s. 

“Will Elrond be upset at me for stealing you, do you think?”

“I think he knew we would fall in love.”

“I have heard it told he has the gift of foresight,” Lindir said. “Is that why he sent you to escort me?”

“I believe so. I thought it strange that he would send me, but I thought perhaps it was because he didn’t want to entrust the letters I carried for Círdan to anyone else. Elrond likes to play matchmaker.”

“I am very glad he sent you,” Lindir replied. “I do love you, you know.”

“And are you content to have me for your mate, Lindir?”

Lindir’s kiss was all the answer he needed.

A week later they rode across the bridge to the courtyard of the Last Homely House where Elrond stood waiting for them at the bottom of the stairs.

Glorfindel greeted his lord with, “You knew Lindir was my mate, and couldn’t be bothered to tell me?” albeit his grin ruined the effect. 

Elrond smiled as Glorfindel dismounted from Asfaloth, and then welcomed his friend home with an embrace. “Of course I knew. And it was so much better for the two of you to find out yourselves.” He turned to Lindir and said, “Welcome to Imladris, Lindir. You are very welcome here.”

~The end


End file.
